


The Corpse Pile

by BlueBunny75



Category: Team Fortress 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBunny75/pseuds/BlueBunny75
Summary: In Tuefort, people die then respawn. However, their corpses stay, so at the end of each battle, both teams have to take the corpses to a place nearby they call 'The Corpse Pile'. In this 'Corspe Pile', the first death of the BLU Engineer wakes up.





	1. Awakened

The sky was a dark purple hue as the sun set over the western horizon, creating a sun rise on the opposite side of the Earth. In New Mexico, the sunset is always a beautiful sight. Stars follow after like stray puppies when the sun disappears. Sadly, only one person at Teufort really sees the night sky at it’s best, even when the sky wishes for others to see, but even that hasn’t happened. This night, however, is different. The man, a tall, lean person with aviators and a mildly western-like hat, wasn’t outside to enjoy the beauty of blues and blacks, but that wasn’t the different thing. Somewhere else, farther from the Teufort, was a pile.

This pile would have easily passed as the two teams garbage pile if it wasn’t for the absolutely putridge scent of death constantly radiating off of it. This pile, is the ‘Corpse Pile’, formally named by both team Scouts. In this place, the many, maybe thousands of corpses from the 18 mercenaries total layed, cooking and rotting in the desert sun. The many bodies just lazily and hastily tossed atop each other in multiple different sized piles, evident the living versions wanted out and away as quick as possible.

Towards the bottom of one of the piles, a smaller one, engineers, soldiers, snipers, medics, and a demoman or two lay, rotting away, now being eaten by the dusk bugs. One engineer, who has been laying at the very bottom, suddenly jerks. This would have been normal, as the body usually freaks out and twitches after death, but that was about a year and a half ago, when that engineer first died. This engineer has been the first death that man had experienced, so it shouldn’t be moving no more.

Right?

The engineer--a BLU one--jerks again, slack jawed and lose armed. It’s--or, shall I say his?--eyes slowly opened, glancing around his dark and disgustingly smelly space. He jerks once more, forcing him onto his side, and whoever was attop him shifted over with. Now laying on his right arm uncomfortably, the engineer tries to push himself up, against whoever was attop him, resisting being crushed. It was futile as he gave up quickly, looking for a differently way. Shifting upwards into more of a sitting position, the BLU Engineer glanced around once more, spotting a dark, but strangely lit hole between the man in front of him and above him. Keeping his balance on his left hand, he pulled his right hand up to push the two apart more.

There just wasn’t enough space yet.

His fingers and wrist on his right hand refused to move, remaining a flat, slightly bent palm to stay. Not that he noticed, his one hand gloved, and it was needed to remain flat anyways to try and escape.

Yet, when he tried to pull his right arm up, the shoulder only rolled, no movement any lower than that. Looking back down, cringing at the terrible smell around him, his slacked jaw hit his chest, or at least his neck. The engineer tried to move his right arm again only for the shoulder to roll.

It let out a groan, then a longer, higher one--maybe a yelp?--in surprise of the noise that came out of his throat. It was deep, gargled, like he was trying to talk under water. He looked around again to try and catch better barings of himself with no such luck.

Looking back at the hole before him, he tried to think his chances. He could try, and risk hitting his head on the ground, his right arm giving out under him, not managing to get through, but if it worked…

Eyes squinting behind the goggles, the engineer lowered his head and shifted his weight on his left arm, which is now shaking under the still present weight. He leaned forwards, then back. Forwards. Then back. Takes a moment to prep, then launches himself at the hole the best he can. His hard hat makes it through and lands with a thump on the other side, but the BLU Engineer himself had a little trouble.

Managing to catch himself with his left arm, the body above him gave away and slinked back across the engineers spine. The slack jawed man can now see where he was, and now understood the absolutely putridge smell he had to handle the time he was stuck.

Around him was more rotting bodies, each one challenging the one beside it to see who can smell the worst. The engineer pulled himself up so half his torso was on the body infront of him and held his nose, hoping to stop the terrible smell. But it didn’t stop, and he knew he had to leave to make it stop. He kept his hand on his nose and tried to stand. After trial and error, the man now knows to keep his weight mostly shifted onto his right leg.

At this point he was standing with nearly all his (now) light weight on his right foot. The coordinating hand continued to swing limply as its counterpart was holding his nose. His face was scrunched up from the fact he had to remove his hand to retrieve his hat.

Now taking a good look around, the engineer saw something was off. Half of his vision was clear, and there was a very blurry double either behind, beside, or inside the thing he would be focusing on. Shaking his head, the man decided to leave before checking himself over some more for any post-battle injuries.

The nerve of those guys! Why didn’t they check to see if he was really dead? Now he has a concussion and a broken arm-

Drool dripped down from his lips, and he quickly moved to wipe it away. Both of his shoulders rolled and his legs (or rather, leg) kept moving, his left hand dropped to his chin, wiping away what seems to be a river of drool.

How long has he been drooling for?

He didn’t want to know the answer to that as he came up to a gate. The BLU Engineer tilted his head slightly, trying to swallow some pooled spit before moving forward, propping his unresponsive arm to the door. Opening it was a might harder than he remembered, but he opened the door nonetheless. He quickly as possible moved away from the terrible place--both smelling and looking--back to base.

He oughta set them boys straight for dumping him in the pile! But why _was_ he there? Surely Medic checks every body for a pulse before saying their dead, right? And why were there so many bodies on top of him?

He shook his head again and wiped away a stray drop of drool before pausing to tilt his head back again. He looked up at the beautiful sky above them all as he carefully swallowed his drool the best he could. A slack jaw that refuses to move can be really difficult to work with.

Rubbing his throat and tilting his head back forward, the Engineer continued to awkwardly shuffle, spotting two lit up buildings ahead. Slightly shifting right, the man did not stop moving, going straight for the concrete base.

 

In two different parts of the two bases are two sniping nests. In one of them, a Sniper, the same one usually laying out on his van enjoying the stars, sat. He wears red colors, unlike the man he is currently watching walk back to base. Through the scope, Sniper could see the man wears a yellow hardhat, goggles, overalls, a blue shirt, and a yellow rubber glove with grey tips over his right hand. That isn’t what caught his eyes, though. It’s the patches of red, green and white that he failed to notice on his first glance over. It was very dark out, and trying to make sure the man in question doesn’t notice the red dot following him is difficult.

The red, green and white patches though, as far as the sniping man can tell, is blood, rotting flesh and bone. The right arm elbow is rotted down to the bone, and from the looks of it, unresponsive. The calf down on the left leg seems to be rotting down itself as well. What he did notice at first was the engineers jaw. It just hung there, and every now and then, the man would stop to tilt his head back. There also seems to be visible blood spatters on the man’s clothes as well.

With all that added in with the fact that the rotting man seems transfixed on getting to his opposing team’s base, it’s not surprising that the BLU Engineer doesn’t see the red glowing dot behind him, seemingly following him.

Sniper raised an eyebrow and had an idea. Maybe a warning shot to alert the zombie of what it would be facing if tempted to attack. A bow shot will suffice.

The sniping man raises his head to watch the BLU man as he leans back to grab his bow. Shuffling into proper bow-firing position, the RED Sniper knocked an arrow and drew back, carefully aiming. Taking a deep breath, the man makes sure his aim is just right before releasing, carefully watching through the darkness around.

 

An arrow was the last thing Engineer thought would suddenly appear before him. Then again, he wasn't expecting anything to appear before him. His weird yelp came from him again, causing him to tilt his head and look away from the arrow to groan again, to test his vocals. Deciding it wasn’t important, the man leaned forward to get a better look at the arrow before him. Mainly, the arrow feathers.

It’s such a shame it’s so dark and his eyes completely refuse to adjust. Groaning again in annoyance, once again causing him to lean back slightly in confusion, he reached out with his left hand and grabbed the arrow by the head, pulling it out of the ground.Looking at it more carefully, the Engineer shook his head and continued to do his form of walking back to his base. Really his workshop door.

 

The zombie pulled the arrow out of the ground. Whether it be from curiousity or something else, it pulled the arrow out of the ground, and is now limping away with it. The sharpshooter never thought a zombie held the strength, or even the curiosity to pull anything out of the ground. Quickly putting his sniper rifle and bow against his back, the man turned and climbed out of his nest and back to his van. Man, did he have a story to tell the RED team in the morning.

 

    Getting the door to open was a hassle, and groping around for a lightswitch with one occupied hand was even more trouble. It’s not like he can’t use his shoulder to help him find the light, it’s just that there is stuff everywhere along the walls and he could knock something down.

    A growl like sound came out of the builders mouth as he tried to cross the floor to the opposing side of the room without tripping or kicking something. Like every other time, he paused to think over the sound he made.

    How is he able to make such sounds? Surely he shouldn’t be able to. Well, maybe he can, and just never tried? Maybe…

    The Engineer continued to carefully stumble his way through his room when his head snapped down at the sound of metal being kicked. His toe hurts too, did he just kick some metal? Dang it! Hey, what’s that sound? Is someone else in here?

    A door a bit to his hind-left opened, letting a stream of light into the dark room. The BLU man took a few moments to observe his surroundings now that he can see it. The engineer saw the piece of metal that is causing his pain and glared at it. How dare it!

There was a shadow in the doorway when he finally looked at it. It was short, or as far as he could tell considering the shadow was stretched, and roundish. Who was short and roundish on his team? His own shadow has overcasted the mans, and they both looked…

    Leaning back from his slightly slouched pose and turning around, the limping man looked into the face of someone unfamiliar, but completely familiar too. Both had looks of shock on their faces.

    The one standing in the middle of the room seems to realize who is standing across from him first, and moves to them. He reaches out his left hand, and spots the arrow. The limping man stops to get a better look, and sees that the arrow feathers are red. The Engineer, now satisfied at knowing who shot at him, turned and instead of moving to the other man, moved to a table.

Just before he managed to reach the table, the piece of metal he kicked earlier decided to get revenge for being kicked and tripped the limping man. Said man tried to catch himself, but he hit his head on the edge of the desk he was approaching, rendering him unconscious immediately.

 

    Out of the many things that could have--and has--happened at the base, an animated corpse of himself was the last thing he ever thought about seeing. In fact, he never even thought about it.

But when it starts to walk towards him and lifts up an arm, you can guarantee that he stepped back and nearly screamed. What stopped him from turning and sprinting down the hall with his tail between his legs was the fact the zombie stopped moving and looked at the arrow in his hand.

It tilted his head and moved it closer slightly. It’s face changed from a curious one to something else before he turned right and started limping to a nearby desk.

Before he could reach it, he launched forward and a loud tock was heard from his skull hitting wood. The living Engineer followed it’s head with his eyes as his revived counterpart slumped down further. He noticed a piece of metal hanging under the right foot and realized that it tripped.

Taking a few moments to situate himself, the engineer that was still awake took a few steps back and turned. If he was going to investigate, might as well get Medic. That german man is better at this than he was.

 

Waking up to a knock on the door wasn’t the worst way to wake up, but as he was dreaming about something so pleasant, only to be ripped from it made the situation a bit different. The man in the white under-shirt and indigo pants sat up from his limp position over the desk he was working at. He, the Medic of the team, rolled his shoulders, earning a crack and a groan. Another knock sounded as the Medic started to stand up. He called out that he was coming and managed to slip on a vest before opening the door.

When Medic saw the teams shortest member, he was only mildly surprised. And when he asked the said man why he was here, he was even more surprised.

A zombie? In the base? Well, the zombie in the base wasn’t what he was so shocked about. Maybe yes, it knew how to get in, but what _did_ shock him was the fact that the Engineer before him said that it was a zombie of _himself_.

Immediately the medic was not only intrigued, but more awake. He smiled and told the man that he will help him bring the zombie back from the workshop to his infirmary. The taller man turned back into his lab and grabbed his coat, and was reaching for the local anesthetic. Oh? The zombie knocked himself out? Well, that made things a whole lot easier, they can just drag it back for inspection.

The BLU Medic turned back to the living Engineer and nodded his head, following the shorter of the two out of the lab and back to the workshop.

Upon turning a corner, there was light at the end of the hallway, coming from the double doors at the end of it. Engineer gasped and paused, making Medic echo as he nearly ran the man over. The man in the white-shaded blue lab coat looked down at his co-worker with a raised brow.

The co-worker had stopped moving, remembering that he didn’t turn the lights on when he left, and they weren’t motion detected. _Someone either came by and stopped in there, turning on the light and shutting the door, or the zombie did it._ Either were possibilities, and the latter more unlikely than the former. But, that still doesn’t deny that the zombie could have done those things.

He informed Medic of the two facts that are seen before them. One, he didn’t shut the door, and two, he didn’t turn on the lights.

The two looked at each other with nearly wide eyes before they both ran to the doors. Opening the doors, they found the zombie standing and looking down instead of laying limp on the floor. Hearing the metal double doors open, it looked up and around, tilting its head, confusion stitching it’s face the best it could.

 

_Great_ , was the man’s first thought, _I tripped. What was the chance of that?_ With a huffed groan, Engie managed to prop himself on the table with his left arm, right still refusing to cooperate. Taking another glance around, the Engineer saw that his counterpart is gone. He made a hum like sound and moved to the doors.

Just before he shut the doors, he turned on the light to see more properly. Now he could see his workshop more properly, the first thing that the BLU Engineer noticed was the stream of drool passing his chin. With a groan of disgust and annoyance, he raised his only working hand and wiped away what he could.

Turning back to the table the man climbed up against, the BLU spotted a cloth used for cleaning the machines from excess oil. Doing his weird limp to it, Engie finally got rid of the spare drool and tilted his head back to swallow the rest.

He tilted his head back down, but let it drop all the way, deciding now would be the best time to check over for more injuries other than the ones he can feel. The Engineer glanced over his right arm and just stared.

Around the elbow joint was green rotting flesh, bone just barely visible. His glove was worn and stained a brownish color. His torso looked fine from what he can tell, other than the spots of faded red splotching his blue uniform.

His left arm was fine, evidently from how he is able to use it. Its corresponding leg on the other hand, the thigh was a tan-shaded green, and the joint was a deeper color. The calf was more rotted, revealing the bone to the world.

His right leg was in the same condition of his left arm, other than the bit of rotting around the joint.

His strangely seeing eyes widened as he just stood and stared.

How did this happen? How long was he at that pile? Why is he rotting? He shouldn’t be rotting, right? What happened to him?

He heard the metal double doors open behind him, and turned to look, still very confused. He looked at the two people in the doorway.

One was taller than the other by a noticeable distance. He had black hair that curled to a point in the front. He wore circular glasses and a pale, pale blue lab coat. He had fair skin and a slight smile.

The man next to him was the same man as before, short and stocky. He wore a yellow hard hat and glove on his right hand. The shorter man wore overalls and welding goggles over his eyes. Even still, the rotting man knew he was looking right at him.

The shorter man was so familiar, and that is not only because he met him earlier. It’s because that this short man is himself.

The rotting man looked between the two of them, one clear eye more focused than the ever blurry one.  He took a breath, and for the first time since he woke up, he tried to speak.

 

“Ohat appen toe eeee?”


	2. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A doctors visit with a hint of America.

The night sky outside had only just begun to brighten over the wood and concrete buildings below it. The stars still visible for the one who was late to see them. A light, bright and circular gleaming a soft white light across the desert. The sky has begun to add green paint to it’s mixed hues of blues, blacks, and purples, creating a sight not seen everywhere. 

Just like sunsets in New Mexico, full moons are just as gorgeous. The reddish yellow sand below only starting to shimmer from the new light, creating quite a quiet sight. The two buildings this beauty towers over has seen things that can be taken both as beautiful as the sky as it wakes, and as gruesome as the time of war when the sun is blocked.

But at this peaceful time of rest, in the blue painted building, rest in not an option for three of the residents. Or two, if you count for the fact that two of the men are the very same. The tallest one of the waked inhabitants seems to think that this very thing is happening before him is quite fascinating, and just can not wait to start with his plans. But first, he had to move from the workshop to the infirmary.

Well, a living zombie is not just something that’s easy to come across. A real one too as a matter of fact! Oh, the experiments he could run on it! But first, Medic needed to get the zombie to the Medbay. Leaning off the door and straightening his coat, the doctor was about to open his mouth to speak when the creature before him beat him to it.

 

“Ohat atten toe eeee?”

 

It...It asked what happened to it, why did it ask? Surely zombies don’t question what happened to them. This truly prompts a good reason to investigate further and study him. 

It. 

Study  _ It. _

Medic’s face stayed straight, if not his smile disappearing momentarily and his eyes widening. The taller man glanced to the living version beside himself and saw he was still, face hardened in concentration. That face he knows well. It’s Engineer’s thinking face. Usually, it’s not as rough, but this is a very different situation.

Turning back to the living dead man, the medic managed to speak.

"Vell, ve are not sure, as ve just found you here. But! I can help answer your question." He paused to think, then continued. "I'm not even sure if you can understand me. To vhich point I'll just inject you vizh-"

Ah, right, he didn't grab the aesthetic. Engineer has told him that it was unconscious. Which it clearly is not. Just as the Medic stopped patting his pockets for the syringe, the undead man took a step back with wide eyes.

It was shaking its head, bit of drool rolling past its lips, and was groaning out 'nah's. No? What does it mean by that?

Something isn't right. Normal zombies don't understand words, nor do they question why they look--and smell, ugh--terrible. This creature is not normal.

He must bring it back to study!

Hardening his gaze upon the zombie, he reaches a hand out and steps forward. The walking dead stepped back just after, but trips. His body is no longer able to work just as well as his living body used to. It let out an inhuman yelp as it’s head hit the ground, then another, deeper one as an after-hit groan. At least, he assumes, considering the look he-it as on its face.

It started to panic as the tall german started to close in, shaking it’s head and saying something. Finally, the zombie stops shaking its head to say the words more properly. From the bottom of it’s throat, causing him-IT to flinch, the undead spoke again.

“Nahh! I’ll allah, I’ll allah!”

‘Allah’? What does the thing mean by ‘allah’? What words does he remember of English that are similar to ‘allah’? It seems that he doesn’t have much of a chance to think as the Engineer behind him told him to stop. Looking back, the Medic saw the man waving him back and away from the creature before them.

Sighing, the tallest man turned around and dropped his sadistic grin, just noticing he had one. The shorter one nodded once as the (non-licensed) doctor stepped away from his counterpart and stepped forward himself. He-It flinched, but didn’t attempt to move away, instead keeping his-IT'S blocked eyes on the german.

The Engineer calmly walked over, or as calmly as he could, and knelt down beside him. It. And knelt down beside  _ it _ . The man on the floor stopped staring at him and instead focused his-it's gaze to its living counterpart.

Here he was. Knelt down beside something that has the potential to murder him, over and over and over, without worry, without exhaustion. But, it won’t.  Not only because it seems like it can’t, but because it has the intelligence of an average man, at least, and won’t do so.  _ That is a reason to not be so scared, _ he reasons to himself,  _ it--or is it he?--won’t harm you _ . 

So, here he was. The man stopped staring at the teams Medic in fear and what looks like confusion, to look at him.  He cocked his head and stared at him too, before it felt the drool that has gathered pass his lips. It flinched and brought it’s left arm to its mouth to wipe away what gathered, then tilted his head back to swallow what was is his mouth.

As it-he leaned it’s-his head back forward, the living Engie spoke to the dead Engie and asked him to repeat what he told Medic. He was quiet for a few seconds before he repeated his sloppy sentence. The engineer sat down more properly as the zombie sat up. He started listing off words aloud to try and understand the sentence. Allow? No, that’s not it, but close by the dead man’s face. Hm, maybe hollow? No, that wasn’t it, he has a sad face. Follow, maybe? 

The rotting man quickly nodded his head at the word ‘follow’. The sentence he was trying to say was, ‘No! I’ll follow! I’ll follow!’. Engineer was right. This zombie isn’t anything like the creatures in the movies. No, this creature before him is a man who defied God himself and came back to life as a walking, rotting corpse with the inability to speak properly. 

Nodding his own head, the living counterpart said that he’ll escort him back to the Medbay with the medic to see if they can do anything about his rotting condition. Said man glanced back over to the man  in the light blue lab coat and slowly nodded. It was clear that the zombie did not trust the man as of his previous actions. 

With surprisingly little help, the man was back on his foot, and had stationed himself behind-side of his double. The medic once again straighten out his coat and vest and turned on his heel, guiding the twins out of the workshop. The walk had to take longer, as the dead double couldn’t move as fast as he used to, given one leg and all.

Their only trouble had been watching out for any stray mercenaries along the way. They could NOT risk anyone other than these two see, discover, and meet the zombie duplicit. Thankfully, they ran into no one. Upon arrival of the Medical Bay, the creature looked up and around the area before glancing at the gurney. He tilted his head and approached it, only to stop just beside it and just stare at it. He held his only working arm up and stared at that too for a long while.

He was asked to sit on it by Medic and it only continued to stare at the two things before looking back at the two living people and spoke.

 

“I cat. Ith tah tall.”  


As he finished saying that, he swayed forward and back a bit, showing off as his limp arm became a pendulum for a few moments. Thankfully, the two didn’t have to really think at all to understand what Dead Engie (he really needs to make a nickname for this guy) tried to say. The living Engie (let’s just stick to Engie) moved forward and knelt down again. Sitting on one knee, he patted his knee to show him that he can step on it to get up. The Zombineer (maybe this could work) wiped his mouth with his arm again before taking hold of the gurney, and attempted to step onto his living counterparts knee.

Both of the livings, after assisting the zombie onto the bed (Medic coming up behind to prop him by the armpits to lift him up, [that scared him, badly.]), figured that he must have been significantly weaker if he required help up onto something level with his gut. The not-actual doctor turned and grabbed a piece of paper and a noteboard, writing this down. 

Said man pulled up a chair and a table containing basic check-up items. Engineer had to retreat back a bit more to get himself a chair. Once he returned, the medic has already applied the blood pressure checker thing to Zombineer. (Yeah, Zombineer is sticking) After a few seconds of silence, the team medic muttered something in german, touching the dead man's unresponsive arm, that of which following the word ‘Interesting…’.

The twins, at similar times, either groaned softly with a cocked head or actually asked what was ‘interesting’. The BLU german removed the BPCT after quickly jotting something down, he answered that his blood pressure was normal, if not slightly lower than the living Engie’s blood pressure.

Engineer was the only one of the two who were surprised, as the dead one just shifted their face to a  _ ‘of course it is! Why not?’ _ like look. Not like the other livings noticed, it’s not like the two had  _ not _ been forced awake by different means and are currently fighting the urge to pass back out.

Okay, only Engie is feeling that. The BLU Medic on the other hand is having a way harder time trying not to inject both Engineers with something to see how the other would react. He needed to finish getting the check-up vitals first to watch any change. Uh-oh, Engineer--the living one--is giving him a hard look. How did he know that he was planning on-... oh. He really needs to stop muttering to himself.

Looking back up at his patient-TEST SUBJECT, looking back up at his  _ test subject _ , he saw that it lowered its head and is shaking. He would be concerned if it wasn’t the sound coming from hi-its mouth. It wasn’t inhuman, but was at the same time.

It was chuckling.

It was laughing at the fact that he was muttering to himself and his-IT’S counterpart gave him a cold look. The bastard… He  _ really _ needs to stop. 

Picking up a wooden stick (you know, the ones you use for popsicles) and a small light, the Medic turned back to the dead man and told his to hold his head up.

It's jaw was already limp, so he didn't find the need to tell him to open up, but did humor hi-it with a 'say ahhh'.

It obliged, albeit with an amused look, then jumped at the noise it made. It sounded like he was under water, and was trying to scream. It remained in position, but it’s shoulders jerked and it’s face slacked. Medic himself actually paused to take a quick note of it before finishing up.

He disposed of the stick into a bag and turned back to the dead twin. He raised the light in his hand and spoke.

“I’m going to check your eyesight, so I vill need you to remove your goggles.”

He-it nodded its head and removed it’s helmet with its left arm, setting it in hi-its lap. With difficulty, it removed it’s goggles and looked around, pausing to cover an eye. It covered its left eye and glanced around, eyes a distant glimmer of actual life. It removed its hand and covered the other, revealing a duller eye.

Medic, watching on as Engie asked it a question, wrote down a note,  _ ‘Contains Human Curiosity’ _ .

 

“Eirytin’s kine a lurry,” It said, motioning to it’s left eye, “ith this eye.”

 

“You’re left eyes blurry?” Engineer, the living one, confirmed.

 

The zombie nodded and turned to the doctor, letting him shine the light into his eyes. It flinched and blinked a couple times after, but it took less time to get through. Medic recorded his findings. He then stood up and moved some papers on his desk. Pausing, the man thought for a couple seconds then continued on, finding a sheet of paper with letters on it.

He grabbed it and positioned it so the paper was on a wall, a marking on the floor twenty feet away. Patting his gloves together, the teams medic motioned the two Engineers over. And the two walked over after one jumped off a gurney. 

Medic took the Zombineer’s limp arm and pulled him-IT onto the marking, telling hi-it to face the paper. It looked at the doctor with slightly wide eyes before blinking and nodding. Nodding back, the doctor retreated and stood next to the now lit panel containing the paper. 

Medic said he needs to check it’s eyesight and told him-it to cover it’s left eye.

 

It was a long, and to be honest, scary process to get a check up by a man who you’re sure is going to experiment on you afterwards. Medic wrote down one last thing on the sheet of paper he’s been writing on for the past hour and turned to the two Engineers.

 

“Vell, hi-eh,” He paused for a moment, “ _ it’s _ vitals are very normal, almost perfect other than his jaw, arm, a little bit of a leg, and eye.” The german kept his eyes on the paper, tapping it with his pencil, but took a seat across from where the Zombineer was sitting. “The jaw is an easy fix, it just needs support, and so does the leg, but the arm and the eye is a bit of a problem.”

 

“So, we need tah support his jaw and leg, then figure somethin’ out for the rest?” Engie asked, tilting his head and resting it on his hand.

 

The dead counterpart only tilted his head back and swallowed the build up of saliva in his mouth. Tilting back forward, zombie Engie figured he should get used to being around again (going off of what Medic has been saying about him) and swung his only properly working leg.

Looking around the workshop once more, he found the clock. It read 4:58. Burrowing what remaining eyebrows he has, he looked back to the two, well lack of a better word nerds, and asked a question.

“Hey gus?” 

They didn’t notice.

“Gus?”

Engie noticed. Zombie can tell as he slightly turned his head Zombineers way. Zombineer is a zombie version of Engineer as far as he was discreetly told, so he should know his own behavior traits.

“Soudn’ ee erri adout Soldah? Is nali ieth.” 

Turning his head to his counterpart, Zombie could tell that he was confused. His face was scrunched up and his hat and goggles shifted. Knowing it would take too long trying to translate verbally, the zombie engineer turned and pointed at the clock. It read 5:00. Soldier is awake.

The team medic ‘oh’ed loudly and stood up, glancing around to figure something out. 

 

“Zhe Soldier! Ve need to hide zhe zombie! But vhere?”

Seeing a singular shrug, the german sighed and turned around. Shouting can be heard from the other end of the base, nearly clear enough for the three to hear what the shouting man is yelling. The three feel bad for the poor man on the receiving end of the daily ordeal. 

 

“Well, we gotta hide him somewhere,” the texan started, Medic cutting in.

 

“And I suggest ve hide zhem here.”

 

The still living Engineer seemed to think. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if he hid in the garage? No one enters without my permission.”

 

The Medic shook his head, moving a hung curtain for a back corner. “Nien, zhe garage has no hiding spots, the lab does.” He turned and reached for the walking dead, “come here now, you need to hide!”

 

Said zombie flinched back, away from the reaching arms of the mad doctor. Engineer stepped in and began to argue that the garage is a better place. Medic switched his focus onto the engineer and began to argue back, claiming the back is full of this the team hasn’t seen, another wouldn’t make a difference.

The man they argue about stands away, looking between the clock and the doorway nervously. His goggles back over his eyes. The screams had ended, and now footsteps are approaching.  The two livings in the room are still arguing when the footsteps hesitate, approaching with more purpose. Zombineer turned to he was facing the door, and began a staring contest.

5:02. Footsteps approach, the argument goes on. Zombineer doesn’t know where he might be going.

5:03. The footsteps stopped just before the door. The argument still grows on. He glances back and sees them waving about a bit. Oh dear.

5:04. The door opens with a slam, snapping the dead forward to it. A tall rough posture greets him. Soldier stands in the doorway, right arm extended out to hold the door against the wall. The room is silent, the two being quieted by the loud bang. The man in the doorway looked at the three in the room with a hint of hesitation. And with a breath, he spoke.


	3. Greetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cup of coffee and a Scottish touch.

The morning was arriving, the sun beginning to rise and adding hues of red and orange into the blend of the sky. The stars began to say goodmorning and flicker as the full moon set them to bed. The desert sand glimmered a golden hue in the orange sun. Wood and concrete brightened up and their opposing colors shown. It was, and is going to be, a peaceful morning. Maybe not in the BLU team Medbay, but let’s see.

The Doctor, the Soldier, and two Engineers stood in the very room. An Engie and the Medc were arguing about where the zombie, Zombineer, should go to hide  only to be interrupted by the Soldier barging in to wake up the german.

Zombineer stood directly before him, staring like he was caught in headlights, and behind  _ him _ Medic and Engineer stood facing each other, but looking at the doorway. Soldier almost felt a tear in his eye.

“Oh, you’re all awake already,” Soldier almost shouted, looking over each person individually, “Good. You should keep that up, then I can focus on the runts of this pack!” He smiled and let go of the door, straightened his posture, then walked off like he did do anything.

They stood there, glad he didn’t notice a thing. Medic muttered something about how half the team are idiots and they wouldn’t notice ‘it’ in the back, continuing the fight. The zombie turned when Medic muttered then turned back around with a groan.

He couldn’t be bothered about the sound he made, and he couldn’t be bothered about the argument either. So, as he wipes his face to clear any stray drool, he walked out of the Medical Bay unnoticed.

His limp from his barely unresponsive leg made his footsteps off beat, and strange. Doesn’t help that the empty hallway was echoing it too. He spent some time deciding where to go, and figured he needs a coffee. He passed a hallway that led to his workshop and looked down it. The light was still on, and the doors are still wide open.

He’s going to have to close them later.

The quest continues, and he reaches a turn to go down past the ‘living room’, dining room, kitchen, and game room. Everyone should be in the living room at this time if he remembered correctly. He looked down to try and figure out if he’d be able to get in and out quickly enough. 

His limp makes him slower than normal,  _ and I have to pause to wipe my mouth, adding a few more extra seconds, _ he thinks wiping his chin with his left arm. His right hand is unresponsive due to rot at his elbow and the rust between his fingers. Maybe he could-

There was a sharp whistle quickly followed by a hash crash and a ‘Hey!’. Snapping his head up, Zombineer heard a commotion to his  right, a hard thump was heard as well. A few paces later he was peering into the kitchen at an angle that people in the living room won’t see him. Scout, Soldier, and Sniper are all standing at a counter where a broken coffee pot sat. 

Sniper had his arms cross and was glaring at the other two. He was holding a mug and black coffee was all over him. Soldier was looking at the pieces of the coffee pot and coffee on the floor and Scout had his head tilted away, looking at the counter.

The handle of the pot was at the door frame, close enough for Zombineer to grab. The floor was sparkling and there was a large dent in the machine where something must have it hit. Scout was holding a ball, Soldiers hands were bleeding.

“Who broke it?” Sniper asked, snapping his sharp gaze from one to the other. Scout kept his own gaze on the large piece of glass on the counter and hunched up his shoulders. Soldier didn’t say anything but did turn around, eyes still on the ground.

“Someone’s gotta pay for this, and it ain’t me.” Sniper almost snapped.

“Look, Snipes, shouldn’t we jus’ clean this up ‘fore someone else gets hurt?” Scout waved a hand to Soldier who was now looking up at the handle.

The zombie turned his head and looked into what he could see of the living room. He didn’t see anyone, but he could hear a couple people there complaining about the pot. He wiped his chin once more and looked back into the kitchen. Soldier was looking right at him with almost a blank look, and perked when Zombineer stared back.

Of course the half living jumped slightly. No one turns around and expect someone to be staring right at them, especially not when you are trying to stay hidden. Zombineer didn’t have any time to react before the man yelled, “Engie!”

Startling the other two, the man continued. “Before you accuse me of anything, I’ll just say it now. It wasn’t my fault!” Soldier walked over and quickly picked up the handle to the pot and held it out to him. “Yes, there may be glass everywhere and I have cut my hands on them, but it wouldn’t be something you can’t fix!” 

Over the patriotics shoulder, Scout could be seen turning back to the doorway, one that lead to the dining room and pass through it, whilst Sniper just shakes his head and turns to the counter, grabbing the large shards of glass. Looking back, he noticed Soldier was almost forcing the handle into his right hand.

“I don’t know how many things in the place gets fixed, but I am 100 percent positive you do it.” He paused to finish forcing the rusted fingers into place. “Either that or you buy a new one, but that still means you fixed it!”

With a wide smile, the man forced him around and shoved him back down the way he came. Taking this as an advantage, he nodded and held up a thumb, then moved out of the hallway as quickly as possible. Rounding the corner, Zombineer settled against the wall and followed it along to his workshop. So much for getting some coffee.

With a yawn and a stretch, the zombie decided to go to his workshop. Is it still his if he’s dead and the living one technically owns it? Too much to think about, right now, Zombineer just wants to sleep. Rounding into the hallway he first passed, he undead living yawned and ran into something.

With a yelp, the man fell and hit his head, suddenly relaxing before he could close his eyes.

 

With a tired and annoyed groan, the man with dark skin and even darker hair stepped out of his room. Of course, just as he was almost done with the new bomb prototype, he passes out and is rudely awakened by a scream at the door. 

Adjusting his vest after shutting his own door, a loud thump and yelp from down the hall was heard. A softer tock of something hollow hitting something hard followed after. Looking back down the hallway to the main area, Demoman fixed his hat and turned around. Passing the hallway to the workshop, backdoor, and storage rooms, he took a glance and had to doubletake. There, on the floor, was his Engineer. Sprawled out and unconscious. Moving over quickly and kneeling down, he noticed some things. 

First, the smell. Oh my lord the smell. Where was that smell coming from? Maybe that’s why Engie in unconscious.

Second, the construction man was covered in blood. The spots on his shirt was a good hint.

Third. The rot. It was terrible. On the right arms elbow, around some wounds on the face, and on the jaws joints. This Engie was either fake, or dead. One way to find out. The demolitions man raised his finger and poked the jaw. The flesh was surprisingly soft, and felt real. 

Demo leaned back onto his ankles and looked around. How did this get here? Why? Was Medic going to use it for something? Well, he should go and find him and ask. Maybe he would like the body. The man was shifted so he was on one knee, and was about to stand.

The body on the ground groaned and shifted to the side, rolling over to stand.

With a yelp of his own, he fell back and watched the undead rise once again. It looked around before it turned to look at him. The two stared at each other. Eye locked with goggles, goggles locked with eye. Something seemed to have shook the living dead and it raised it’s left arm and wiped it’s chin, tilting its head back.

Finishing that task, it looked back at the Demoman and seemed to have sighed, waving for him to stand. It took a couple times, but the bomb expert got it and stood, watching as the zombie of his team member motioned him to follow and walked down the hall to the workshop.

A second pair of the same footsteps quickly approached the hallway.

 

It took a couple seconds but when he finally found control on his body, the first thing he did was groan and roll over. Someone nearby yelped and seemed to have fallen down. Getting up onto his knees, then fully standing with little difficulty, Zombineer looked around. First he glanced down to the location he was heading to , then to his left. A man sat on the floor, giving him a shocked look.

Demoman. He has been spotted. He stared at him, wondering what was going through the man's head, then raised his arm to wipe his chin. He just noticed the amount of drool on it. He leaned back and swallowed what he could, them faced forward with a sigh. 

Looking back down to the demolitions man, he waved for him to stand up. Trying to speak would be to much work. Demo just stared at him, even after a few more waves. 

Finally, on Zombie’s seventh wave, recognition sparked in the living man’s remaining eye, and he finally stood up. Smiling, the undead waved his hand in a ‘follow me’ motion, and turned to walk down to his workshop. Halfway to the doors, he stopped and turned around, seeing the Demoman had begun to follow. Continuing onwards, the two entered the workshop. Doors still wide open, light still on.

The two shut the doors and Zombie began to look for a notepad and writing tool. 

 

The Demoman didn’t know what to say. The engineer is walking around the workshop, looking for something, and he saw the  _ real _ Engie walk past when this Engie had his back turned. Or maybe, this is the real Engie and a fake Engie walked past?

He’ll go with the foremost.

The creature, he’s sure they’re called zombies, found a blank paper and a pen, wrote something, then approached him, holding it out. 

_ ‘Hello, I’m sure you have questions?’ _

Reading over the poorly written text, he looked at the zombie. He tried to think. Should he say yes? Or should he ask the questions he has? Next thing he knows, he just said ‘yes’.

It - or he? Who knows. - nodded his head and set the pad down, writing another thing. This one took a little longer, and Demo decided to fill the silence.

“So, are ye able to talk, or no? Writtin’ things get tiresome after some time, ya know?” The scratching stopped for a second, and he feared he said the wrong thing, but the scratching continued, and another thing started.

“I can, ut ooo cat uersta e en I to.” It-he almost droned.

A few moments paused was broken by Demo apologising and saying he didn’t understand that. The zombie - Zombineer? He likes it - moved his head in a pointing fashion and almosted muttered “Esatly”

The scratching ended with a final quick scrawl and Zombineer picked it up, showing it to Demoman.

_ ‘I am Engineer, or an older version maybe. All I know is I am a zombie, and I am alive. I can speak but I cannot control my jaw, and my right arm is out of use. Please, do not speak of me before the others,’ _ A symbol of Medic and Engineer were hastily drawn and text continued.  _ ‘only know I am here, and now you. They do not want the others to know.’ _

“Alright. Keep ya a secret, got it. But how?”

The undead man pointed over his shoulder with his head and limp-walked behind a desk, setting the pad down on it. He pointed to the ground with his only working hand and spoke again.

“ere is ah unker ack here air I gah tah gat alay an oncose sonting terrille hattens.”

Demo stared at him for a few seconds, managing to connect some dots. He moved forward to Zombineer and leaned across the desk. Indeed, from where he is leaning, he can see the edge of a bucker door. Slipping around, Demoman watched the zombie kneel down and twist the padlock like lock.

It took a few tries, but the lock came undone and Zombie tried to lift up the vault door like latch. With a quick glance between the two, the demo crouched and asked, “Do ye need help?”

Zombineer seemed to not notice what Demoman has said, and tried once more before sighing. Nodding his head, he leaned back a bit, giving the still living the necessary space. With a chuckle and an ‘alright’, Demoman hooked his fingers onto the slight edge around the rim and lifted. It opened easily.

 

Just how he remembered it. Inside was a ladder going down a few feet, then stairs, going deeper. Looking back up to the creature beside him, he saw a look of unsurety. It dragged itself forward with it’s-his one arm and twisted around. Kicking one of his legs out, he placed it onto one of the ladders rungs.

One leg down, the other and the rest of his body to go.

Kicking the other leg out, he managed to maneuver it so it was on a rung. Right arm limp like a piece of rubber and left arm propping up the rest of the body, Zombineer was beginning to doubt if this would work, painlessly. Of course, he could just toss his body back, but that is going to be painful, and might possibly kill him. 

How was he to move his left arm and catch a rung? It seems Demo had a better idea. He leaned forward and grabbed Zombie by the shoulders.

“Here. I’ll hold ya, and you can grab onto tha ladder.” 

So, true to his word, Demo held onto Zombineers shoulders as he leaned back, and grabbed the ladder.

“There. Now we don’ need tah worry about you fallin’ down.” Demoman had a smile on his face. It was probably the first genuine smile he has seen since he woke up in that disgusting pile of corpses. It looked nice. It was nice. He nodded his head in agreement and reached down, grabbing a lower rung and had his feet follow. Rung by rung, Zombineer reached the bottom and wiped his chin. Looking up the his companion, he thought for a second then motioned him down.

The man at the latch was shocked, looked around, then dropped down the ladder. The two stood at the bottom of the metal ladder and at the top of a seemingly long set of stairs. With an almost exaggerated ‘come on’ motion, the zombie walked down the stairs, and flicked a few light switches along the hallway. 

A noise of a door shutting above Demo, and the lights suddenly going out, told him one of those switched shut the door. The light along the stairs also told him that the other switch turned on the lights.

With a tilted head, he followed after the zombie of his Engineer.

**Author's Note:**

> This took a while to get on here, coming from a Google Doc.  
> I hope you like my story, it just came to me one day and I went, 'eh, why not?'


End file.
